Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

She sat up in her bed, the blankets falling around her waist. She wore an
oversized shirt with the face of Friedrich Nietzsche printed on it. She jerked
her head back and forth before settling on Wallace, standing in the corner of
her room. “What? What is it? What’s wrong? Are we under attack?”
“No,” Wallace said. “What are you doing?”
She stared at him. “I’m trying to sleep.”
“Oh, really? How’s that working out for you?”
She started to frown. “Not well.”
“Did you know I can’t sleep ever again?”
“Yes,” she said slowly.
He nodded. “Good.” He turned around and walked through the wall out of
her room.
“Oooooh!” he moaned as loudly as he could. “Ooooooooh!” He paced up
and down the hall of the bottom floor, a little perturbed that he couldn’t seem
to stomp his feet no matter how hard he tried. He banged his hands on the
walls, but he kept almost falling through. Which is why he found himself
bellowing out every ghost noise he’d ever heard in horror movies. He was
disappointed he had no chains to clank. “I’m deaaaad. Deaaaaaaaad! Woe is
meeee.”
“Would you shut up!” Mei shouted from her room.
“Make me!” he bellowed back, and then redoubled his efforts.
Wallace continued on for sixteen more minutes before he took a cane upside
the head.
“Ow!” he cried, rubbing the back of his skull. He whirled around to see
Nelson standing before him, brow furrowed. “What was that for?”
“Are you going to behave? If not, I can do it again.”
He reached for Nelson’s cane, meaning to take it from him and toss it
away, only to come up with nothing, taking a stumbling step forward where
Nelson had stood before he’d disappeared into thin air.